![]() ![]() ![]() The three giant potbellied frogs squeezed into a tiny desk built for children. They sat to his right, at a desk borrowed from the primary school the court martial was hosted on its playground. Idiots who owed their existence to the President's insane plan of 'professionalizing' the army. Of fools who returned from exile to assume powerful military positions. The mark of cowards who had no experience in battle. The symbol of girly soldiers who spoke English instead of Swahili. He loathed the prosecutor's uniform, that plain green shirt of educated officers. You could mistake it for fear, especially when he eyed the prosecutor who stood directly opposite him. Even after standing for three hours in the heat, the only sign that it troubled him was the frown on his face. In defiance to the sun, Mande did not sweat. It suspected the soldiers were only putting on a show and would release Mande when public interest in the case evaporated, so it tried to execute him. After thirty minutes without word of his whereabouts, the sun became furious. The trial ended, but the firing squad could not proceed. ![]()
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